


Our Side

by White Queen Writes (fhartz91)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 13:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20779067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/White%20Queen%20Writes
Summary: Brokering those first steps towards physical intimacy, Crowley starts having doubts.





	Our Side

**Author's Note:**

> (I do believe I got a little angsty yesterday with my fic for the prompt “Open your eyes? Please? Do this for me?” when it wasn’t expected. From me to fandom, please accept this as an apology. Still a little angsty, but with a fluffy chaser <3)

"Open your eyes? Please? Do this for me?"

“W-wat?”

“Open your eyes for me, my dear. Please?”

Crowley sucks in sharply, then he sighs. In his defense, he didn’t realize he’d had his eyes closed. Up till now, he’d simply been deflecting, shifting his gaze away.

He hadn’t started off that way though.

He’d been determined to look, determined to lock eyes with his angel, determined to absorb and remember _everything_.

But Aziraphale had been looking back at him with such love, such innocence, such childlike wonder after every touch, every kiss, every article of clothing Crowley fumbled with, the few that he’d removed.

It was those big, blue, doe eyes of Aziraphale’s. Those eyes could make Crowley do anything, and they have throughout all of history. But this – this was Crowley’s idea, and Aziraphale had happily agreed. What they’re doing - _exploring_ one another, as Aziraphale puts it; _getting re-acquainted_ is the turn of phrase he’d used that Crowley liked best – isn’t so much about sex but physical intimacy.

“There needn’t be a goal, or a destination. The journey is what matters most,” Aziraphale had added. Crowley wondered at the time whether or not he said that to assuage his own fears.

But now that they’re here, lying on their sides in Crowley’s bed and facing one another, having gotten only so far as shoes off, Aziraphale’s bowtie and vest gone, Crowley’s jacket somewhere on the floor, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, top three or four buttons undone on both their shirts, Crowley finds himself ducking his eyes from his angel’s view.

Not because of his eyes per se. He’s not ashamed of his eyes, not in front of Aziraphale. Those serpent eyes of his and what they represent matter little to Aziraphale. Aziraphale seems to like them. He never shies away from them. Even in the Garden, they didn’t unnerve him.

No, it’s because Crowley feels ashamed in general.

What is he doing?

He’d been so careful around Aziraphale – concealing his regard for him, keeping space between them with his hands in his pockets, never touching him unnecessarily. One thwarted Apocalypse later and here they were - _together_. In the end, however, it wasn’t thwarting the Apocalypse that put them in this position.

It was Aziraphale acknowledging that they were on each other’s side.

It was everything Crowley had dreamed.

But now he’s having second thoughts.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale whispers to his demon, locked in the dark. “Please?”

Crowley slowly opens his eyes, which comes, to his dismay, with a single tear slipping down his cheek.

“Oh, my dearest! What’s wrong? Things were going swimmingly a moment ago.” Aziraphale bites his lower lip, adding more roses to his cheeks.

“I’m … I’m nervous,” Crowley says, hating how gravelly and weak his voice sounds when he says it.

“So am I. But don’t worry. We’ll figure this out toget---“

“That’s not what I mean. I’m not worried about that. I don’t … I don’t want … to tempt you into this.”

“You’re not tempting me, my dear,” Aziraphale says, the warmth of his smile mirroring the warmth of his hand as he reaches for Crowley’s face and presses a palm to his cheek. Crowley turns into it, kisses it. “Believe it or not, I know what temptation feels like, and this isn’t it. I’ve made my own decision. I want this. I want _you_, and everything that comes with you.”

“Even if that means losing your Divinity?”

“Crowley, I’ve been an angel for 6000 years. I’ve done my best for the Almighty. I’ve been ever on Her side. I’ve done everything I’ve been commanded to do …”

Crowley’s left brow slowly arches upward and Aziraphale sheepishly rolls his eyes. “_Most_ of what I’ve been commanded. If she tosses me aside because I fell in love – truly, honestly, with my heart and soul, no matter who with - then my Divinity doesn’t really mean anything, does it?”

Crowley nods imperceptibly. He wants to feel relief that Aziraphale has come to terms with that, and so logically, too. But Crowley doesn’t entirely believe it. He can’t. He knows what it feels like to lose Divinity. To be left with a hole in his chest, alone in bitterness and doubt. How could Aziraphale act so cavalier about throwing his away? But he says, “I didn’t think of it that way.”

“Besides, weren’t you the one who said being damned wasn’t all that bad once you got used to it? I think I’d look rather fetching in all black, don’t you?”

“Don’t … don’t talk that way. Please? It’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not funny. But it very well could be a reality soon so we might as well get used to it. Call it gallows humor then, hmm?”

“Fair enough,” Crowley agrees, managing a small half-smile, his eyes wandering again. Aziraphale gets his attention, bringing him back to center with his own.

“Every moment you take your eyes away from me, you deprive me of something glorious. Something I want from this day forward for the rest of our lives.”

“And what’s that?”

“The chance to show you how much I love you.”

Crowley grins. He doesn’t look away. “Could you show me now?”

“Absolutely.” Aziraphale shuffles forward, more awkward than smooth, but Crowley loves it. It’s too adorable for words. “How? You choose.”

“Kiss me,” Crowley says, already leaning in to accept his angel’s mouth. “And don’t stop until petty things like Heaven and Hell don’t exist anymore.”

“That might take a while.” Aziraphale puts an arm around his demon, sliding his hand up his back, dancing his fingers lightly on his neck. Crowley inches into his angel’s embrace, their bodies meeting at every mirror point – knee to knee, hip to hip, chest to chest. They fit so well together, Crowley thinks as he wraps an arm around his angel and hugs him tight. Like they were meant to be together this way. Meant for one another.

Wouldn’t it be a kick in the trousers if that were actually the case?

“That’s all right. I believe we have the time.”


End file.
